From the windy mountainpass a man and his mule travels down to the gates of Brinnar , the fortress-city on the boreder of the Hyathen Empire.
6'3" tall and entirely clad in purple silk clothes , including a broad-rimmed flat-top hat , he doesn't seem to care wether he'd be seen or not.
"Your buisness , sir?" The heavy-musceled Gate-guard inquired.

The tall stranger takes off his hat and makes a courtious bow , sweeping his hat so ,that it just doesn't hit the ground.
"Megamieuwsel is the name , good man. Master of the arcane arts and undoer of evil. My traveling lead me far and wide and now I'd like to regain some vigor , shamelessly profiting from the utilities , set up in your fair city to that purpose. May I enter , or doth thou cast me out , to sleep amongst the wild wolves and monsters , that might be lurking in the shadows , just outside view of your magnificent walls?"

A puzzled look crosses the guards face.
"Ehh, say again?"

"Sigh... Got an inn in this jumble of bricks? I'm tired and hungry and looking for a place for the night."

"Sure ; The " Dragon's Hangover" is in the third street on the left. No messin' around here , or your stay will be in the cellars of the garrison. Good day sir."

As the figure clad in purple silk clothes moves into the city a rumble can be heard just over the horizan as a merchant convey approches the fair fortress city ahead. The Guard turns his attention to the approching caravans, seven caravans in total. Two strong horses pull each caravan and one guard clad in breast plate rides silently alongside each.

As the first caravan approches into talking distance is crawls to a hault as the Garrision Gate Guard approches the first driver.

"Your buisness , sir." He asks again for the second time in the past few moments in his life.

"We bring supplies and goods from across the realm," The man says. "We travel from city to city selling our goods to local merchants." He explains at the guards confused glare.

"Very well, what have you to delcare?" The Guard says taking out a pad and ink pen.

"Twenty One Horses, Seven Guards, Seven Caravans, Seven Drivers and Four Others." The Driver says and watches as the guard drots down the notes.

"Four others?" He questions.

"Aye, Two Women and a child we found along the road, and a blind man who asked if we could give him a helping hand." The Driver explains.

The Guard glances down the line of caravans spotting the two women and the young child, clearly of the same family. 'Dreaded Tuskers' The Guard groans using the local term Tuskers for "Orcs" as he eyes the frightend faces of the three. 'Will they never cease to destroy the hopes and homes of the weak.'

A Silent nod of agreement is all the driver does.

"Where is this blind man?" The guard looks puzzeled.
"Oh he is back there. Somewhere, most annoying chap if I do say so myself." The Driver explains.

"Hey! Hey! I heard that!" Comes a cry from the rear of the troop as a middle aged man stumbles off the rear caravan and nearly falls face first into the dirt road. Standing barely 6ft tall the mans clothing is stylish but well worn, wearing a pink shirt and blue pants his eyes are covered with a length of white cloth. He grabs around the back of the caravan for some time before finding his favourite 'seeing' stick.

"I'll have you know im hardly as annoying as this man claims!" The Man walks forward swinging his stick wide infront of him hitting first the caravan then nothing, the caravan the nothing, the caravan then a near by guard in the shin who had just dismounted. Obilivious to the curse as the guard now moves around hopping on one leg holding his other high to his chest in a comical fasion. The Blindman stops to reconcider his course for a second, then moves directly towards a caravan.

"You fool! Stop!" a near by guard cries but its too late, a deafening thud is heard and the Gate Guard shudders and moves forward down the line to find the man laying flat on his back grumbling about 'how inconciderate people just leave caravans parked everywhere these days.'

The Guard lifts the man to his feet.

"State your bussiness Sir." He questions.

"My Bussiness? Well.." The man begins to ramble on about seeking adventure and proving himself a worthy person and how the blind have been descriminated against through out the ages. This carries on for a few minutes and the guard lets out a long winded sigh.

"Ok, Sir."

"But you see I really..." The Man continues and the guard is forced to grab him by the shoulders and shake his wits about him.

"Sir!" The guard nearly cries at the top of his voice.

"Why yes?"

"What is your name Sir?"

"Cadogan Trahem of Oakendale Shire."

"Thank you Sir." The guard moves down the road towards the gates and motions a young private forward leaving Cadogan to say 'you're welcome' to nothing but thin air.

"Private, take this Trahem fellow to the Dragon's Hangover and make sure the Inn Keep knows about his condition and special requirements." With a quick salute the private rushes up to Cadogan.

"This way Sir." He takes the man by the arm. "And err.. sir, if you dont mind me asking, why are you wearing Pink?"

"PINK!?! I'll have you know this is Rosey Peach! Atleast.. I was told it was..." was the last think the gate guard heard as the man and his private walked through the gate and into the city.

Cappucina is trying to work her way up to the bar counter, but there is quite a crowd. There always seems to be a good crowd here at the Dragon's Hangover. She tries to push her way through all the legs in front of her, but this is far too frustrating. She is tired of being jostled by the customers who don't bother to look down before they take a step. She spies a sturdy looking fellow, takes a few steps back, and runs right at him. She jumps, grabs his sleeve, kicks off against his shin, and in a few steps has scrambled up this guy and perches on his shoulder. "Thanks." she tells him. She starts hopping nimbly from one shoulder to the another headed right for the bar. One last jump from one last shoulder, and she lands with both feet on the counter. "The usual." she pipes up in her squeaky voice. When the bartender gives her an odd look, she laughs and tries to keep his attention so he will serve her before all these other people she just climbed over.

Then she smacks her forhead in an exaggerated "I'm so forgetful today" whack. She squeaks out, "Oh that's right. I just got here today! Do you have any rasberry brandy? Or not that then how about a nice lambic? And hey, excuse me, but what do people do for fun in your wonderful establishment? You know, dart games or dice or what not? You got a bard coming to sing tonight? Any entertainment?"

The usual bussle of the Tavern draws to a quiet mutter as a strange pair of men walk through the door, a City Guard arms in arms with a man dressed in a Pink shirt, the guard sits the man down on a stool and quiet walks over and mutters something into the Keeps ear before the keep nods quietly and approches the man.

"HOW ARE YOU TODAY SIR?" He screams at the top of his lungs.

"Egads Man! Im Blind Not Deaf!!" Is the reply and the chorus of laughter around lives on the moment before going to a quiet mutter again.

"Very well Sir, what would you like?"

"Like? Well.." The man goes on about a list of things he would one day like, including world peace and a farm of his own.

"Sir! Sir! Thats all good and well, but what about a drink?"

"A Drink? Why on earth would I want a Drink in this.." the man sniffs the air. "..This... This... Where Am I? This place smells like a pig farm!" Another Chorus of laughter follows.

Having only just come to the city malimax inters the Dragons Hangover.
Entering the crowded bar malimax yearns for the taste of ale. The road has been long and the trail dust is thick in his throut. The humiliation of walking about the land instead of riding is only worsened by his lack of monitary funds. Sometimes good doesn't pay that well.
Quickly malimax touches the holy symbal hanging from his neck. "Forgive me pelor for my impure thoughts of monitary gain." he mumbles under his breath as he makes his way towards the bar.
Reaching down to stuff his belt pouch deeper into his wastband he silently curses to himsef "These places seem to breed the very vermon that would make off with a mans purse given the chance!"

"Hey there good man an ale if you please" awaiting his ale malimax leans with his back against the bar surveying the croud reaching out with his fealings, searching, for any evil that may suround him.

__________________
as a free action i scream
as a full round action i run in the opposie direction
if that doesn't work i scream again!

A few minutes after the last of the caravan has passed through the gates, a lone figure rides up on a cart pulled by a small, sorrel colored horse with blond main and tail. Crito, a small young man with raven black hair and dark brown eyes, hums a lively tune as he reigns in the horse in front of the gate. He brushes a lock of hair back from his eyes and addresses the guard.

"Goot day, sir. Can you direct me to a reputable Inn, pleass?"

The guard gives Crito directions to the Dragon's Hangover. Eyeing the jumble of pots, pans and other assorted equipment in the back of the cart, the guard warns Crito, "You'd better get yourself a license before you do any peddling around here, lad."

Crito sighs. "And I supposs it vill cost me, eh? Vhere do I get dis license?"

The guard chuckles. "Of course it'll cost. See the clerk in the town center. It won't be that bad." He waves Crito through.

Crito flips the reigns and clucks at the horse. He starts humming the tune again as he heads into town. May as well get settled at the Inn first, grab a bite and then see about that license.

He eyes the Dragon's Hangover with a bit of skepticism. Reputable? Well, doesn't look like much choice around here. He hitches the horse to the rails outside the Inn, ties down the canvas tarp over the back of the cart and heads inside to make arrangements.

Inside the place seems friendly. Lots of laughter. Some customer, apparently a blind man, seems to have just told a good joke from the way people are looking towards him and laughing while another customer, a dwarf buys him a drink. Crito smiles and heads over to the innkeeper.

In a dusky and grimy alley Megamieuwsel trods along the filth and refusal of the town's households.
It's not , what one could call "the well-off side of town" , he's in; Cracked walls , rotten wood for doors , creacking windows and , if one cared looking up , roofs of disputable weather-resistance. The folk , scurrying around , doesn't look too rich either ; rags and tags and filth being their latest "fashion-statement".

"Fair lady ," he adresses a plump matrone , interrupting her , doing some household-chores , involving a bucket of human disposal, "I was directed to the fair inn , called "The Dragon's Hangover" , but unfortunately , I lost my way. Could you , from the kindness of your heart , tell me where to find this locale?"

"Information eh?" cackles the fat hag "That's five gropers for starters and I'm cuttin' ya slack , for being new here in this hellhole."

She spits to the side , releasing some brownish goo , she's been chewing on previously.

"Well , that and b'cause you're kinda good-lookin'" she adds with a wink.

"Ehh.... gropers? Excuse me , but what are these? I'm rather unfamiliar with that name. Are they some sort of coin?"

"Some sort of coin? HAHAHAHAHA... What else do you think , slumpy? Gotta feed that good-fer-nuthing man of me somehow. Life's hard down here , y'know..
I'm talking five of those nice shiny , round , good-fer-a-munch copper pieces and add one tho the price for that extra info , cutie-pie.
Now hurry , man. Ya want to find that inn or not? I haven't got all day , y'know."

"Six coppers total it will be , mylady , let's see...."

Rummaging in his pouch , Megamieuwsel is unable to lokate the required six coppers amongst the few golds and silvers in there , so he just pulls out a random coin and hands it to the woman.
A golden Obool...

"Sorry madam , I don't have any smaller. Nothing bigger either , I'm afraid. I hope you'll settle for this one..."

The woman's eyes bulge to the point of nearly dropping from her head , seeing this big golden disk , resting in her grimey palm.
Recomposing herself quickly , she slaps the tall man on the *ahem* "lower part of his back" and with a broad smile , she cackles:

"Wowsers man! Not only did ya buy yaself the info , you'd get a save-pass and one of my sons takin' ya there as well.
OK boys! ",she calls over her shoulder, "Let go off ; no muggin' of this one today."

Two gargantuan ,unshaven and heavily muscled men appear seemingly out of nowhere. Their faces aren't exactly showing the brightest of minds , but one could dispute , wether they needed that , taking the big , two feet long knifes in their hands.

"See [i]this[\i]?" the woman shows the Obool to the ugliest of the two , "This gentleman just made sure , we got beef on the table tonight. Now , YOU go and show him to tha draguns hanguver and make sure no other buggers kick his junk , gottit?
Laddy here show ya the way , sire. Wish ya a really good day."
And with those words , the hag turns her back to Megamieuwsel , taking the other thug by the ear , into a house.
"And you are to go with me to the market , young fella. you're to carry the stuff and...."

The ugly , and admittingly rather unwashed , giant exclaims:
"Me lead. You follow."Then turns around and starts walking.

Cappucina is aware that the bartender's attention has wandered and is paying no more attention to her numerous questions. Actually, he is wandering, right out from behind the bar toward the front of his dark, musty smelling establishment. In fact, the whole crowd has turned around to observe the newest two patrons. One is a guard. Guard! Aw fiddlesticks. Cappucina still standing on the bar, ducks down behind the heads and shoulders of the crowd. She observes from cover as the bartender, Her bartender!, goes to cow tow to authority.

In fact, all of the attention of the crowd soon becomes focused a blind man and the guard. The blind guy has a bit of an attitude. Interesting. He also wears a pink shirt and this gets Cappucina thinking.

While everyone is distracted, she jumps across the counter to the shelves and pulls herself off a pretty bottle of something dark brown and sparkly. She finds a sort of clean large glass and pours the sparkly liquid all the way to the top. She then returns the bottle where it came from.

As soon as the bartender looks like he is returning to his duties, Cap scoots down off the bar and into the crowd legs with her cocktail. She weaves her way through the sea of legs and toward the man with the pink shirt. She doesn't have to go far before she runs into him as he was on his way, led by a dwarf, to the bar. She starts tugging on his sleeve. "Excuse me. Excuse me! Here is the drink you ordered Sir. Our very finest! A double or a triple beverage perhaps. On the house." she squeaks as she maneuvers the glass into his hands.

Now that she has his attention, she asks him some questions. She pipes, "Excuse me. Excuse me again sir! You are blind right? That must be troublesome. And you are a traveler right? Like me? But, I go places to see the sights. Why do you travel from place to place? And you travel alone? How can you trust strangers you meet and then depend on for food and shelter in all the new places you go? Can you tell a gold coin from a silver coin from a copper? They are all the same size! How do you know if someone trys to give you the wrong change? How do you keep your own coins straight so that if something costs two silvers you don't by mistake give over two golds?"

The Dragon's Hangover is a busy establishment tonight as several caravans have entered the city during the day. A continuous trickle of people in those caravans have asked the gate guard about where they might find an inn or a drink. This guard directs them to his brother's establishment for a 10% kickback. He always adds that this is the only place in town.

It's located on one of the dirtiest streets in the seediest part of town. The regulars are a bunch of skuzzy looking thugs and drunks. There always seems to be a pickpocket or two in the crowd, looking for an easy mark.

The establishment itself takes up the first floor of a two story building. The tavern is large and made of wood and stone. At the far end is a long dark wood counter with a half barrel sink and shelves full of various bottles, mugs, and glasses behind. Thick brown water fills the half barrel. It is a makeshift sink. The brown water is the dishwater, and it hasn't been replenished for quite some days and has a sludge and muck on the bottom one ince thick.

One one side of the door to the place are some small tables with two, three, or four chairs around them and a fireplace. On the other side is a lone long table with over a dozen chairs around it. On this side of the room are also some dartboards with room for a game and along the wall a staircase leads to the upper floor and guest's rooms. Between the stairwell and the end of the bar counter is a door to the kitchen. Most noticible of all the various decorations in the place is the strange chandelier. It is made up of hundreds of huge horns and bones and extends from one end of the long room to the other. Candles and lanterns are placed among it in a random fashion, casting light here and there, in the otherwise dark and dank practically windowless room.

Two men sit smoking strong, cheaply grown and poorly dried stinkpipeweed in large rounded pipes. They don't talk or anything, just puff and puff. The smoke from these noxious stinkpots has evaded the air and permeates everything. There are thick blue lines of smoke hovering just at 6'3" off the floor, swirling about at exactly this height from some strange combination of air pressure and draughts. This thick swirling smoke is visible from underneath, anyone standing with their heads in it's eyes start to water and ache like crazy. And sting like mad. Shorter customers don't get bothered that much by the smoke.

Cadogan is suprised to find himself being ushered through the crowd by a small fellow with a rather deep throaty voice introducing himself as Gralhruk.

"Thank you thank you!" Cadogan exlaims as he finds himself sitting on a bar and Gralhruk ordering him a drink he doesn't want but he continues to smile and nod politely. Before long a squeakly little voice jumps upon Cadogan.

"Excuse me. Excuse me again sir! You are blind right? That must be troublesome. And you are a traveler right? Like me? But, I go places to see the sights. Why do you travel from place to place? And you travel alone? How can you trust strangers you meet and then depend on for food and shelter in all the new places you go? Can you tell a gold coin from a silver coin from a copper? They are all the same size! How do you know if someone trys to give you the wrong change? How do you keep your own coins straight so that if something costs two silvers you don't by mistake give over two golds?"

"Arggh! What Manner of Beast are you! Back Back!!" Cadogan swings his favourite 'seeing' stick back and forth... rather too high to hit the Halfling infront of him but just high enough to hit a few heads and drinks around the bar.

Its not long before he has composed himself and he gradually moves the stick lower, and lower, and lower. *Tap*

"Ah! Found you." He mumbles. "Now.. what was it you wanted?" The halfling goes into a flurry of questions.

"Slower! Slower!!" Cadogan taps the halfling on the head with his stick. The halfling recites the questions one by one. Cadogan nods, smiles politely and answers.

"Aye, im blind but troublesome nay. I like to travel yes, but sights are not one of the reasons I do so." chuckles from around the tavern follow. "I travel to prove myself just as capable as any man!" A Round of Huzzahs roar through the bar. "Alone I travel, but not by choice, you see no one really seems to stick with me long." Cadogan frowns. "They dont seem to like me much."

"Food has been a problem, but so long as I can locate a road I can locate a town, and once I locate a town I can locate an Inn or Market and once I locate and Inn or Market I can locate Food! Rather simple you see." The bar falls silent.

"Err... well anyway moving on. I can feel the difference between coins, their shape, size and weight are all different you see, not so much different that you or even Gralhruk here can notice, but me, I can tell the difference from experience." Cadogan explains, and much to his amazement he hears people all around him fetch coins and fiddle with them trying to see if what he says is true no doubt.

The halfling pulls Cadogan's seeing stick away from his hand and replaces it with a glass so fast that Cadogan is struck with true terror. He jumsp to his feet before he stumbles around the bar blindly trying to locate his stick (which is strung to his arm by a peice of leather) screaming.

Its not long before Cadogan is settled down by Grulhruk and the Halfling fellow and a Big Fellow trods through the door followed by a man clad in purple. The bar goes quiet at the two new entries before a Sentry comes charging through.

"Tuskers! Tuskers! They've breached the North Walls! Every able man To Arms! To Arms!" Before he charges out the door and down the road screaming the same warning as he goes.

The bar jumps into life, as every man, and some women jump to their feat and draw their weapons and charge through the door, leaving alone the Dwarf, Halfling, Purple Clad man, and the Blind man who had entertained the bar for so long.

"Oh Tuskers!" Exclaims the blind man, before turning to Gralhruk and whispering. "who or what are tuskers?"

The dwarf spits the words out distastefully, his face plainly showing his feelings for the beasts.

"Town's been having trouble with them, tryin' to loot where they can. Looks like they're back. The guard's been sayin' it's nothing, but I'm thinking there's somethin' bigger behind it. They're a bit too organized, workin' a bit too well together for my liking."

"I'm Cappucina. And you are?" she asks the blind man and the Dwarf after she introduces herself. Moments after the introductions, someone starts shouting for Tuskers. Cap can't see through all the legs as she is on the floor again. Quite a lot of people are named Tuskers, because most of the patrons stream right out the door. "I don't know anyone named Tuskers. It is a nice sounding name though. Tuskers. Hey! A free chair!" Cap drags it over to stand on.

Cappucina is a female halfling. She has chin length straight thick black hair, black eyes, a little round nose and a small but pointy chin. Right now, a large handful from the front and top of her hair is pulled up and held together by a band right over her forhead. The result, it looks like she is wearing a hair umbrella as the last two inches of ends spray out in a neat circle.

"well now the quiet is some welcome,no?" Malimax says to the small group left in the bar as he picks up his mug and walks towards toh group. "I do say I have seldom seen quite a sight as what is now before my eyes!! A blind man who trusts Dwarves to lead the way yet has been missled on the very collor of his shirt. A halfling who as far as I could tell has yet to steel anything from a blind man. And last but not least you fine fellow in purple." extending his hand in the common handshake of the land malimax talks directly to the man in purple " The name is malimax son and worshiper of Pelor, new to town as you might tell, could I buy you a drink and possibly bend your ear good fellow" (OOC; use class feature detect evil on the charcters in the bar. concentrate first on the man in purple) "After all I see no need to rush off in chase of what is most certainly 90% panic and 10% tusker do you?"

__________________
as a free action i scream
as a full round action i run in the opposie direction
if that doesn't work i scream again!

A halfling who as far as I could tell has yet to steel anything from a blind man Cappucina hands go right to her hips and she starts stomping on the chair she stands on in a terrible pout.

"Hey! Heeeyyyy! Sir. I am offended by your comments about Dwarves and halflings. You must be biased toward the shorter races. Also, mister, it's rude to stare! Didn't your dad Pelor raise you to have manners?" (said to Malimax with a shake of the fist as he does his detect evil inspection of them all).

"Do you think we should help with that Orc attack or what?" asked of everyone left in the tavern.

Crito doesn't even have a chance to get his food order in before some guardsmen runs in screaming something about "tuskers". In a flash, the Inn is practically emptied out except for the female staff and patrons plus a few stragglers, including the blind man and dwarf, who appear to be out-of-towners like himself.

The strangers are drifting together, starting to make introductions. The dwarf explains to the blind man that "tuskers" are orcs. A man who introduces himself as Malimax comments that there's no need to rush off.

Crito looks at the array of weapons and armor being carried by most of the group.

"been missled on the very collor of his shirt!?" His face goes bright red and turns towards the sound of the man who spoke the words. "Missled! Missled! I'll have you know this is Rosey Peach! And i'll hear nothing otherwise!" Cadogan pauses for a moment and visually calms down, raises his seeing stick and pokes about, casually tracing the outline of the man, from arms up shoulds and over head before going back down again.

"You're...errr.. Alot Larger then I would have thought." Cadogan lowers his seeing stick to his side.

"I'll have all present know Im quite a capable man!" He raises his finger to his chin for a moment. "And to prove it..." Cadogan reaches down and feels for his back pack. Finding it he undoes the strap and feels inside pulling out what at first appears to be a large metal dinner plate, a large metal dinner plate... with straps? He ties the straps onto his arm.

"And to prove it, im going to find me some... err.. Tuskers!" He grabs his backpack and secures it before putting it on, he reachs down to a pouch on his side, reachs in and pulls out some items too small for someone to see and begins to speak in a strange, almost inhuman language (Spellcraft check DC 17 - Extended Mage Armour) before there is a quick flash of magical energies. He stands idle for a moment to make sure his spell is in place before heading in the general direction of the door. Pausing once he has found it.

"Care to watch?" He has a smug little smile on his face, but truely is scared out of is wits, if it wasn't for his shaking voice, hands, legs, and well most of him, you would assume he was actually brave.

"my loud voise and strait ahead speach have once again given the wrong idea" malimax sayes as he pulls his longsowrd from it's sheith "Ralley around the blind man one and all!! Let these tuskers feal the power of the dwarven axe! Come along little one, I have no hatred for the shorter races , only respect for quick hands and clever minds. Warriors one and all feal the power of Pelor (ooc: aura of courage) al you prepare for battle." Malimax heads for the door, but as he does so he passe close enough to the blind man to give him ample opportunity to follow in his wake. Giving the blind man opportunity to be led without making it appear that he would need any such help.

__________________
as a free action i scream
as a full round action i run in the opposie direction
if that doesn't work i scream again!

"Well, I'm not one to stand around and watch folks get butchered but defending the town is guard work. Let'em earn their pay, I say. No need to go running off to defend us, Cadogan, I can see you'd make a dangerous foe."

He takes another drink and thumbs his axe thoughtfully. His voice drops to a low grumble, barely audible.

"Why not trust a dwarf to lead? Power of a dwarven axe. Bah, I'll show you the power of a dwarven kick in the behind. Humans, always running off first and asking questions later . . . "

He trails off, muttering curses in his own language. A quick tug and his axe pops out of it's belt sheath. He deftly catches the heavy thing with one-hand and lobs it over to Crito.

"Here you go; I'll double your price if you can improve the edge on that. Hasn't been the same since I dinted ol' Marek's helm last week."

A half-second too late, Crito grabs at the flying axe. Jamming a finger painfully into the haft, Crito watches helplessly as the heavy object falls straight down on his foot.

"Ach!"

Luckily, only the blunt part of the axehead struck his foot. Crito shakes his hand and, muttering, bends over to pick up the axe. He examines the fine workmanship of the masterwork item with a critical eye.

"A find piece of work. I make sharp, you slice hair into t'ree strips wit' it." Crito grins at Gralhruk. "My stone is outside. Come, ve sharpen and maybe ve see vat goes on out t'ere."

Crito carries the axe outside to his cart, trying unsuccessfully not to limp. He unties the tarp and pulls a miniature, table-top sized whetstone wheel device into position at the edge of the cart bed. With a quick glance to see where Gralhruk is standing, Crito turns his back to the dwarf and utters a few strange words with a quick gesture. He presses the miniature pedal once to get the wheel moving and saying something in his language that sounds like a command, he fills the water trough in the device, picks up the axe and begins the sharpening. The wheel continues to spin on its own.

Working diligently and carefully for a few minutes, Crito brings the edge to the peak of sharpness. He stops the wheel with his hand, again speaking a few words in his native tongue, and hands the axe back to Gralhruk.

"T'ere you go. Goot as new. I usually charge t'ree coppers for t'at. You vant to go test it out? Maybe ve see vat t'e blind man is doin'."

Crito looks to see where the commotion is, trying to spot the others from the Inn. Once he and Gralhruk start moving away, the stone sharpening device slides back into the middle of the cart and the tarp seems to tie itself back into place as the Unseen Servant does its bidding before silently slipping off to follow Crito.

As the two peer back at the inn, they spy a man walking up, wearing a long sleeved white shirt noticeably too large, a dark green cloak and matching hat with a large white feather shoved into the band, and simple brown pants and boots. On his back, under the cloak is obviously a pack of some sort, to which a large wooden shield and quarterstaff have been strapped. A dagger sits on his left hip, while a club hangs from his right, and a small pouch sits above it. The man is yelling loudly, and it takes you a moment to figure out that he is conversing with his hand.

"..No, I don't care what you think! ........ Really? Well same to you, buster!!......... Aww.. don't be that way......... Look, is this the place? Well? Is it?"

He raises his arm, palm open and facing the sign for the Dragon's Hangover.

".. It is? Finally!.. about time I found this place....... No, shut up, I was not lost, merely exploring. Seeing what there was to see. Now quiet, you."

He then shoves his hand into a pouch on his belt, and tilts his hat up, nearly dislodging a large white feather stuck into the hat, and revealing an odd sight. The man's hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and his beard are both the same green as his hat and cloak.

Throwing open the door, and startling a paladin that was just about to open it, he strolls inside and just begins speaking to no one in particular.

"I am Second Talon. .... someone's supposed to meet me, right?"

Looking at the very confused faces of the other patrons, Second's bright and happy smile slowly melts away, and the man looks as though he is on the verge of tears.

"Guess not..."

Suddenly brightening up, he remarks "Hey, you guys'll work anyway. So... how is everyone?"

"Anyone want to follow?" Hooo yes I want to watch the blind man fight orcs with his seeing stick. That would be something new. Cap follows the blind man to the doorway of the tavern and is all set to go out to watch him fight along with Pelor's illmannered son when she gets distracted by the Dwarf. He can't seem to make up him mind whether to go or stay and ends up hiring another fellow to sharpen his ax. Cap ends up following those two instead and watches with interest as the ax is gone over carefully and the unseen servant tidies up. Maybe I'll have to introduce my unseen servant to that unseen servant. They could get to be good friends! They both have so much in common. Both unseen. Both servants.

Baskets and pouches and large wrapped up packages fill the tin tinkerers cart. Conveniently, there is also a large tarp covering the whole interior from anyone else's prying eyes. Cappucina is under that tarp among all Crito's professional belongings and starts to rummage. The most intersting (to her) thing she finds is a beautful green felt bundle with a satin ribbon holding it together. She unwraps it. Inside are tiny tinpunched stars, trees, and other various figures. Each figure has patterns of hundreds of tiny punches visible when light is shining through them. Cap has seen these decoratations on the fancier lanterns people choose for finer homes and sometimes just hung in front of windows as free standing decoration. She peruses through the various figures, picks the one she likes the best, and shoves it in a pocket.

She crawls from under the tarp down under the wagon quick like a spider. From under the wagon, she looks all around to make sure no one can see her, then slipping from shadow to shadow she makes her way back into the Dragon's Hangover unnoticed by all who remain.

She walks up to the accented tin master and starts tugging on his sleeve until she gets his attention, "Excuse me! Excuse me Sir! Is this for sale?" She pulls out the decoration and gets ready to haggle.

Her attention is immediately distracted by the latest newcomer to walk into the bar. Crikey. His hair is green! She puts the tin decoration into her belt pouch in the middle of the haggling and wanders off and over to the green haired man. "Excuse me sir," she tugs on his sleeve, "Did you know your hair is green? It must be hard to go unnoticed if your hair is green. You can't just slip into a crowd and dissappear when your hair is green can you? Or, say, someone with green hair breaks a law and the guards are looking for a guy with green hair. They will stop you for sure. You have to always be real careful not to get into any trouble I bet, with green hair you can't get away with much? Is that right? Why is it green like that?"

"Gralhruk you say these Orcs have been causing problems? Too much organisation you say? Interesting indeed." Cadogan thinks aloud from the door way.

"I thought Orcs would stick to small nomadic tribes... and only attack human farms on the outskirts of any major city, and always at night." He swings his stick around trying to locate a chair and when he does he sits down and continues.

"So why I wonder, would these Orcs attack a major fortified city... in the middle of the day?" Cadogan reaches up and scratches his face. "And from what we've heard they have larger numbers, or else I doubt the guards would alert the locals and spread panic." Despite the cloth across his eyes, its obvious Cadogan has become quite composed in rational thought.

"Interesting, Interesting. Interesting Indeed." He mumbles to himself. However his concentration is broken as a city guard stumbles through the door, holding a bloodied sword in one hand he cradles a deep wound that has cut right through his breastplate. He takes a few steps and stumbles to one knee.